


Benefit of My Own Doubt

by hysteria87



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adults being adults, Angst, Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Smut, Steve being a bit of an ass, Tony using technology for questionable purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 15:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20117698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysteria87/pseuds/hysteria87
Summary: Steve stops speaking to you after you fail to repair Bucky on your own, leaving you to question if everything you thought you had was just your fantasy.





	Benefit of My Own Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a song challenge on Tumblr.
> 
> Song: Fantasy - Sofi Tukker I’ve never seen someone like you/The one that I’ve made you into
> 
> Word Count: 7,414
> 
> Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
> 
> Warnings: Hard Smut. Language. Steve being a bit of an ass. Drinking. Adults being adults. Tony using technology for questionable purposes. A nice dusting of angst. 
> 
> Please read and REVIEW!!!! I love my reviewers and love to talk with them!

_ “You would let me know if I’m being too hard on the recruits, wouldn’t you?” Steve asked quietly, his tone matching the soft glow of the last few embers in the fireplace. Most everyone else had gone to bed or broke off into their own pairings, Wanda and Vision being the most notable new arrangement. You gripped your mug of warm cider a little tighter, your oversized sweatshirt doing little to keep the chill of his inquiry away. _

_ “That’s a little bit of a hard question, Steve,” you start and his piercing blue eyes dart from your own down to the floor, the leather of his chair creaking as he sat forward, “Professionally, can I let you know if any of them have been saying anything in sessions? You know I can’t break confidentiality…” _

_ “So you do think-“ _

_ “That’s not what I’m saying,” you gently interrupt, and gracefully he lets you finish, “But, as a friend and not as the staff psychologist, I think you walk a fine line and it’s a tough position to be in. You and Sam, you two are really the only ones who have been in a war, who had been through the type of training that it takes to lose your best friends and keep going. Not everyone can do that and it’s easy to forget that we work with people, not soldiers. Wanda, she felt her brother die. And yet, she’s still here, they are all still here, knowing full well the stakes and still wanting to fight for this world. What they are willing to do is admirable, but please, remember that they aren’t you.” _

_ Steve listened to your words intently, letting them weigh on his mind a bit. It killed you to see him question himself, even if you knew he needed it. Still, when he finally met your eyes and gave you a reassuring grin, you knew then he still enjoyed these late-night chats as much as you did.  _

This wasn’t a late-night chat anymore. The Sokovia Accords had torn the team apart, pitting the people you care about the most against each other. There were so many good and valid points, but it wasn’t your job to make a decision for anyone. All you could do was listen and ask questions to guide them through their own thoughts. And lately, it didn’t seem like anyone really wanted to talk. 

And here you were, caught in the crosshairs between two superpowers of the most literal sense. Mr. Stark paid the bills, but when Steve asked you to help him and his friend, to run with them to places unknown, to silently condone his side of the conflict, you couldn’t help but nod and board that ship. Something about him pulled you to him, fascinated you, and it went deeper than a strictly professional level. Steve wasn’t one of your patients but the two of you seemed to have an understanding of each other, a trust that went beyond hour-long sessions. 

Bucky was another matter entirely. You knew of him from your conversations, but to come face to face with the mythical Bucky Barnes was… unsettling. He had done terrible things, completely changing world events in the name of HYDRA, and yet Steve insisted that it wasn’t actually him. Brainwashed, trained and triggered, tortured for years. He wanted you to peel it all away, to fix his friend, but it was going to take more than just you to help Bucky Barnes. You couldn’t deprogram a killing machine on your own. So, the three of you had traveled to the only neutral territory anymore, the only safe place for him… Wakanda.

Steve had been distracted since he picked you up and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, his coolness towards you hurt, especially after you had failed to fix this on your own. You knew not to take it personally, that he had just been through hell and back and he wasn’t in any place to stay up philosophizing with you, but since landing, there had been nothing. Silence. A void pressing on you from the inside, one that made you feel like you had lost something irreplaceable. And for the last few nights, as you sat alone on your bed in the room the Wakandan Royal Family had generously put you up in, you pulled your knees to your chest, wiping your tears hastily away with the back of your hands. You were supposed to be the one who understood, who knew why people do what people do. But, sometimes, even with all the rationalizing and study, his detachment cut you down to nothing. 

Maybe this was how he really was. Maybe Steve Rogers was too jaded, to old and worn out to make room in his life for anyone else, and all those conversations were just that: talk. Politeness, something to fill the silence. But, for some reason, you knew in your core that a man that good could never be that uncaring. It was the opposite, more than likely. He probably cared too much, serving the same purpose over and over again and never serving himself. No time to stop the cycle. 

Regardless of how Steve really felt towards you, it was still your professional duty to help Bucky, and the consensus that he, Shuri, and yourself had reached was for him to go back under the ice while she found how to deprogram the triggers from him. Steve hated the decision, losing his best friend for the third time, and he made no effort to hide his distaste. Maybe getting on the quinjet was a mistake. Maybe if you had stayed behind, stayed at the compound, Steve would have gotten to this point on his own and you would still have a stable future. Now, there was no way you still had a job. You were helping war criminals. You were in direct opposition to the Accords yourself. If you were caught, a cell would be waiting for you just like the rest of them.

But you did it because of him, because you were willing to risk it all to be with him.

_ “You’re coming to the party tonight, right? No excuses, I don’t pay you to be serious all the time,” Mr. Stark pointed out as you gathered your materials. Ever since the events with the Mandarin, Tony wanted to celebrate the team victories, to “live life to the fullest,” as he had been known to throw around. It was good for him, to loosen up a bit, and it helped to build team rapport and morale, but you hadn’t ever been one to participate. After all, it probably didn’t look great to party with your patients. But, this one seemed big, the last one at Stark, or rather Avengers, Tower before it and all the staff, yourself included, moved to the brand new facility outside of the city.  _

_ “I suppose it might be time to let my hair down a little,” you sighed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer. _

_ “Good, because that ponytail looks awfully tight,” he joked and you smiled slightly, fingering the ends of your hair nervously, “Rumor mill says that Cap will also be in attendance, if that is something that interests you,” and he gave you a knowing look while pouring green smoothies for you both. You opened your mouth but closed it quickly, trying to regain your professionalism before responding, but Tony beat you to it, “I think he needs to let more than just his hair down, will you help me with that?” _

_ “I can certainly try to talk to him if you’d like, Mr. Stark. My services are open to anyone on the team who feels…” _

_ “JARVIS, please find something for our good doctor here to wear to the party tonight,” Tony announced to the room at large, and immediately screens were projected in thin air of fashion blogs, photos of celebrities on red carpets, design prints that only Tony Stark would be able to steal. His eyes focused on you and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being scanned, “I’m thinking classy, of course, she’s not a hooker. Tight, black or blue maybe? Something that shows off her curves, I mean, we are trying to get her and Rogers laid, right?” _

_ “Excuse me? Mr. Stark, that is so completely inappropriate-“ you started but he just rolled his eyes at you, going back to all the options JARVIS had pulled, “Mr. Rogers and I are nothing but professional…” _

_ “Save it,” he interrupted again, “Bed him, or don’t, it’s up to you. Just… relax a little bit, for me, please?” _

_ You sighed, half in frustration and half because you knew he was right. You wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with Steve, but it wasn’t going to happen. You were just one of the staff, someone as boring as the Iron Legion. He would never look at you in that way. _

_ But, when the elevator doors opened to the top floor of the tower, Steve did a double-take. You had to admit, Tony had done extremely well in finding something for you to wear. He and Jarvis picked out a black body con dress with a wide, square sweetheart neckline and wide straps, helping to accentuate your bust. The skirt of the dress dropped to just below your knees and a silver zipper ran up the back, making it hold your shape in just the right places. They sent a pair of black Manolo Blahnik heels, complete with an ankle strap and a simple silver bracelet to complete the look. Steve greeted you with a martini and rarely left your side all night, his arm even managing to slip around your waist a few times.  _

_ It felt good to flirt with him, to not have to keep the conversations only about work or the state of affairs, and you found yourself letting your body push into his when he whispered jokes into your ear. Even through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel how toned and hard his muscles were, how instead of therapy with you, he opted to go a few rounds at the boxing gym. You couldn’t fault him, it was certainly working. After one particularly amusing anecdote from one of the WWII Vets, his hand suddenly found the inside of your thigh, although he didn’t dare move it up your dress while everyone was around. So when you finally excused yourself to step out onto the balcony for some fresh air, it was only a little bit surprising when Steve followed you.  _

_ “You seem like you’re having a good time,” you pointed out to him, your arms folded on the rail. One thing was for sure, there was no beating the view from Avengers Tower. All of New York City was out on display for anyone who cared to look, the lights from the buildings glittering up to the stars.  _

_ “I am,” Steve responded softly, joining you at the rail, but instead of looking out to the city, his eyes were fixed on you, “You’re definitely making the night much better.” _

_ “Oh, well, thank you,” you blush, “Mr. Stark demanded I come and let my hair down a little.” _

_ “You look nice with your hair down,” he fumbled and you couldn’t help but stare at him, “I mean, your hair looks nice up, too, and even when you…” and the words got lost on his tongue. For as confident as Steve was talking about strategy or the team, he was still that skinny, downtrodden man from 1941 when he wanted to tell a woman how he felt. You took pity on him and gently laced your fingers with his, watching as his courage built back up within him. Taking a step closer, his body pressed against your own again and his free hand went to your cheek, your eyes meeting his own, “You look beautiful.” _

_ “Jarvis is actually the one who picked it out…” _

_ “All the time. You are beautiful,” he whispered against your lips and your eyes fluttered shut, your heart beating so hard you were sure he could actually hear it. Nearly a year you had waited for this moment, for him to notice you, and now it was finally happening.  _

_ “Hey, Barton is shooting glasses off of people’s heads, you two have to get in here and see this!” Thor’s booming voice shattered the silence and you could feel Steve pull away faster than you ever thought was possible. The cool night air came between the two of you and goosebumps scattered across your exposed arms, sending a chill through you in the worst kind of way. Steve cleared his throat but kept his eyes down, offering for you to go back inside first, but all you really wanted to do was throttle Thor. _

You were so far removed from that now, the revels of that night being a distant memory that you played in your mind over and over again. Steve had gone back to being perfectly cordial with you, if not a bit less flirtatious than you wanted. However, after that night, the two of you hadn’t spoken about it, and he refused to even offer a knowing touch or warm embrace. What would have happened if Thor hadn’t interrupted? What did Steve want to happen? You ran that night over and over in your mind, perfecting your own fantasy of the two of you. In some of them, he was gentle, worshipping you like a goddess. Others, you two christened every surface in his room at the tower. And still others, he had you on your knees, wearing nothing but the Manolo Blahniks.

It didn’t matter though. He had watched his best friend succumb to the ice again and for the first time in as long as you could remember, Steve Rogers didn’t have a plan and he for fuck’s sake didn’t want to talk about it. The Wakandan Royal Family were generous enough to allow you both to stay as long as you needed to but nobody could give any thought to how long that would be. 

You needed to get out, the cabin fever starting to settle in the day after Bucky went under. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate everything that had been done for you since being here, but your mind and body were restless, bored even. You wanted to know how everyone else was doing, wanted to make sure that if you couldn’t be there, they could still talk to someone if they needed to. But, that wasn’t going to happen, so in your frustration, you made your way across the front gate and kept walking, not entirely sure where in the godforsaken jungle you would end up.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Steve’s voice echoed from behind you and you stop to look at him, the pinwheel of your brain spinning to find which answer you were going to give him. 

“No idea, just couldn’t handle the silence anymore,” you spit out bitterly, taking a few steps backward on your path. Even from here you can see him furrow his brow, his fingers instinctively scraping against his few days old scruff of a beard. He had come from one of the merchants, trying to beat the heat with a white tank and his khakis he had stowed on the jet. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to pack but Shuri had loaned you a blue high-waisted skirt and a black and white patterned crop tee. Not exactly something you would be caught wearing around the compound, but circumstances made it necessary to not complain, “You’re not stopping me, Rogers, but you’re more than welcome to join me.”

He clenches his jaw and you only shrug, turning back towards your meandering destination. To be fair, you didn’t really give a shit what he thought anymore. You were done being on the verge of tears because of him. If he didn’t want to treat you with any decency, didn’t want to hear you out as to why Bucky’s issues went deeper than any of you knew, then fuck him. 

Your feet took you to the edge of the jungle, a freshly beaten path guiding your way in. The sun streamed through the thick, lush leaves that surround you, shades of green providing a canopy of jewel tones. The perfume of fresh flowers waft through the humid air and you can’t help but take the deepest breath, the simple act serving to relax you more than you knew. The sun felt good on your bare legs as you trekked further in, enchanted by everything around you. Wakanda really was a paradise, so much of nature being wholly untouched by man. 

“You can’t be wandering off on your own,” Steve’s voice broke through the thick air and you visibly stop short, your shoulders slumping. Was he talking to you or wasn’t he? Why did he even care? As far as either of you know, you lived in Wakanda now, so you might as well get to know your way around. 

“I’m not. You’re here now,” you point out, annoyed that he ruined your bit of peace. Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched again, and you knew from all your times together that he only did that when he swallowed down what he really wanted to say. Fine. If he wasn’t going to be honest and transparent, you didn’t owe it to him to be either. 

“What is it that you want?” he asks as the two of you fall into step, so easily matching each other’s strides. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, buying yourself a little time. At this point, you didn’t want anything from him. The Steve that walked right next to you would never be able to live up to the Steve from that night, the one that lived in your head so comfortably. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Cap. I just needed to get out of the palace for a little,” you brush off his question. 

Suddenly, Steve stops, forcing you to stop after a few steps beyond. Did he hear something? An animal through the overgrown brush? Or one of the other Tribes, one who wasn’t as keen to open up Wakanda to the rest of the world? But as you study his face, he isn’t listening for anything off in the distance. His eyes are fixed on you, his face unreadable, and you can’t help but feel like he’s thumbing through the pages of your mind. You can’t bring your eyes to his and instead, you just sigh, waiting.

“You know, I don’t have a Ph.D., but that doesn’t mean I don’t know when someone is trying to hide how they feel,” he starts, lifting his chin ever so slightly so that his eyes are cast down onto you, closing the small amount of distance between the two of you, “So I’ll ask you again, what is it that you want?”

Not one to be intimidated that easily, you stand your ground, but you know that lying to him will get you nowhere. You were dying to have an actual conversation with him again, weren’t you? Well, here he was, standing right in front of you. If he wanted to do this now, then you were not about to back down.

“I want you to treat me better. I want you to fucking talk to me again. And I wish you would actually listen to why I failed Bucky,” you spit out, emphasizing your last point with your finger in his chest. Your words hung between you two, thick in the humidity of the jungle, and when he didn’t respond, you turn on your heel and continue on your path. 

“Why did you fail Bucky?” he questions and you don’t even dignify him by stopping, “You’re the smartest person I know…”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, you know Bruce Banner and Tony Stark. I’m a child compared to their minds so your flattery isn’t going to fucking work.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only one I would trust with this mission,” and his words finally did make you stop. Not the compliment, if that was one, but something else didn’t sit right in the pit of your stomach. 

“A  _ mission _ ? Jesus Christ, Cap…” His blindness to what was actually going on was disgusting at this point and you can’t help but raise your voice, “James Buchanan Barnes was tortured and brainwashed for over 50 years. There was no way I would have been able to undo all of that in a few days, and to ask me to try was setting me up for failure from the start. And then to use that failure as a reason to give me the silent treatment? When you know that I tried everything I had at my disposal? That’s just cruel.” 

His cold, steely eyes turn a shade darker, standing his ground and taking a breath. All the yelling in the world wasn’t going to fucking matter at this point anyway. He never even tried to assume positive intent, to give you the benefit of the doubt, that you tried with every bit of your training, your learning and years of practice to crack the code that those men had burned on Bucky’s brain over the years. It was clear that it was more than just thought practice, that he needed scientific intervention without fear of judgment. But Steve didn’t see it that way. He just saw his best friend give up.

“Do you know why we let him go back in the ice?”

“Because Shuri’s tech isn’t ready yet and he can’t be trusted with his own mind,” Steve offers, not meeting your eyes but you have to nod; he was half right.

“Because the idea of going under again was in and of itself progress,” you explain, your tone softer than before, knowing that Steve wasn’t in the room when the discussion about Bucky’s treatment started, “It was his idea, his first original thought in probably 50 years, his first one that wasn’t an order. He hadn’t made a decision for himself that wasn’t forced upon him in some way since the 40s.”

“But he’s been out from HYDRA’s control for…"

“I’m not just talking about HYDRA, Steve,” you interrupt, trying to be as gentle as you can, “You mean well, you really do. You have the best of intentions in your heart for him, and he’s your best friend, the guy you went to war over. But that still doesn’t change the fact that you are a Captain, and Bucky is a Soldier, and he never goes against the captain’s orders.” 

It was a hard truth and you know that he can’t deny it, even though his self-preservation instincts will want him to. However, you desperately hope that he understands that you didn’t say it out of malice or to hurt him. Quite the opposite, actually. Still, that didn’t make it any easier and his eyes slipped from your own, his usually square shoulders falling a bit in defeat. 

“I just didn’t expect to end up losing him all over again,” Steve finally replies softly and you know that nothing more needs to be said. Instead, you reach out with a gentle hand and give his own a tender squeeze. It was the smallest of gestures but nevertheless, his eyes met your own once again and he manages to give you a contented smile.

The two of you continue on the path, the only sound to cut the silence of that of the jungle around you. This silence between the two of you was different though. Hell, you hadn’t resolved everything that had been eating away at you, but it just didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. You were back to having a soft understanding of one another and the fact that now Steve knew why everything happened the way it did over the past few days was a weight off of your chest for sure. No, things weren’t perfect, but you had resolved that the Steve in front of you would never be like the one you made in your head, or at least what you’ve made him up to be. 

A new sound softly rumbles up, expanding within the distant chirps of birds and the foliage rusting with your footsteps. You turn back to look at him and he nods, signaling that he hears it too, and the two of you pick up your pace, your heart hoping that it is what you think it is.

“Oh wow…” you can’t help but let drop from your lips. The leaves open up from the path, bowing their blades towards the foot of the cliffside waterfall you’ve stumbled upon. The cliff must have been at least 40 feet high, giving the water enough force to not have to cling to the white rock, although it managed to carve out a small cave behind it at the bottom. The water stirred up a little sediment when it dropped but was still crystal blue once it settled into the pool. Wakandans must have been coming to this place for years but today it was undisturbed. 

Steve was already on his knees, dipping his hands in and splashing some of the water on his head and neck. You had to admit, you hadn’t properly planned for this hike and although Shuri’s clothes were cute, they were holding onto a lot of sweat. Without much of a second thought, you toe-off your shoes as you pull the shirt over your head, only pretending to pay no attention to the way he was watching you undress.

“Oh, so we’re swimming now?” he asks, his eyebrow crooked in question as you slip the skirt from your hips, making a neat pile of your clothes in the brush. Turning to dip your feet in, you can’t help but catch a glimpse of him checking out your ass, and the way he swallowed hard at the view. 

“I am,” you retort nonchalantly, the water taking over your legs as you sink lower into it. It was the perfect temperature, being warmed by the sunlight overhead, and it was comfortably deep, being able to touch the bottom and still keep your head above it. It had been ages since you last went swimming just for fun, probably undergrad in college or so. The compound had a pool, of course, but it was for fitness and training purposes, not for grown adults to try to convince Mr. Stark to put in a water slide, “You don’t have to, but that still doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to splash you.”

“Ohh, you wouldn’t dare,” he responds, the threat becoming very real as you tread over towards him, an evil grin on your face. 

“Ohh, you don’t know what I would do, Rogers,” you tease, flicking some drops on him with your fingertips. Steve jumps back but laughs, holding up his hands in mock defeat.

“Fine, I surrender,” he laughs as he slips off his shoes and places them next to your own. Swimming back over to the edge, you lean over to take in the view, curious as to what lies beneath cotton button-ups and kevlar suits. 

The fine baby hair at his waistline hold onto the sweat he had built up from your hike, the sun giving his skin an almost ethereal sheen. The hemline of his tank top rose higher as his agile hands reached behind him, pulling it up from the back. More and more of him was revealed in front of you; each muscle on his abdomen defined and taut as he worked and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. The fabric smoothed over his head, messing up his hair and he pulled his fingers through it as he let the shirt fall to the ground. You knew his pecs were rock hard from poking him earlier, but it still takes you back a bit to see how smooth and strong they are, how perfectly they melted into his shoulders and biceps, the very ones you had seen on display when he did work around the compound, the arms that so gently held onto you the night of Tony’s party. His blue eyes meet yours and you can’t help but notice the small smirk that was forming at the corners of his lips. 

It was totally and completely unethical to be so attracted to a patient. It went against everything you stood for, everything you had built your career upon. The people who came to you needed help and support with their lives, and getting involved with them would break the very oath you took on graduation day. Even worse, it would break their trust. It just wasn’t something you could bring yourself to do.

It’s damn good he isn’t one of your patients. 

“Have you ever been skinny-dipping?” You ask out of curiosity, feeling the urge to push his mind just a little bit.

Steve lets out a nervous laugh as he starts to fumble with the buckle of his belt, his eyes darting off to pay attention to the task at hand, “Uh, yeah, once, back when I was in the Army. There was a stream near the base in Germany and it was too damn hot…”

Your bra lands somewhere near his feet and he stops his walk down memory lane. When he finally tears his eyes from the article of clothing and looks towards you, all you do is innocently tilt your head, refusing to break the connection.

“I’ve never been skinny-dipping,” you mention, hooking a finger under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. You stand on your tip-toes to pull out one leg at a time, the waterline going dangerously low on your chest as you do so. One wrong move and Steve would be able to see everything. 

Before you even knew it, his pants were in a pile, Steve not bothering to fold them properly, and he made his way into the water, relaxing into its cooling effects. Giggling a little to yourself, you pushed off from the edge to swim towards the middle. He was so predictable, any man was. Still, it gave you a bit of a thrill when he threw his boxers out of the water, matching your actions from before.

“We probably should have done that before we had gotten in. Now we’ll have to walk back with soggy underwear,” he mused as you dip your head back, allowing your hair to be slicked back and soaked. 

“Nah, if we’re in here long enough, the sun will dry it out,” but he didn’t really hear you. He was already under the water, swimming a lap around you, his powerful hands making a current in front of you that was a little too close, “Hey!”

He pops his head back above the waterline, “What?”

“No peeking! That’s not fair,” and you throw a splash his way.

“I wasn’t peeking, I swear!”

“You’re such a bad liar,” you laugh and try to splash him more, as he used his hands to shield from your assault.

“Okay, you caught me, I only peeked a bit though, and you can barely seen anything anyway. I think I might have seen… a nipple? Maybe half of one… I’m not sure, better go check again.”

“I do not have half a nipple, Rogers!” but he went under again, sending you swimming away for modesty’s sake.

“Yeah, it was definitely a nipple…”

“This is what I get. I should have known…”

“Known what?”

“Known that I would end up…” and the words got lost in your throat. You want to say that you would end up having more questions, more scenarios and fantasies floating around in your head, that you should have known that if you gave Steve Rogers an inch, he would take up the whole damn mile. It didn’t bother you that he was sneaking peeks, the opposite, actually. And the fact that he didn’t seem as shy as you had thought him to be only served to stir up the long-buried feelings within you. Emboldened by him, you swallow and ask the question that had been burning inside of you for almost the better part of two years, “What would have happened that night on the balcony if Thor hadn’t interrupted us?”

It was a simple question really, and any answer would have been better than no answer at all, even if he said nothing would have happened. At least then you would know for sure. But, as it was right now, that question had you in limbo and it wasn’t going to let you go, and only Steve had the definitive answer. His eyes refuse to drop from your own, although the rest of his face is unreadable. He probably doesn’t remember that night, at least not as vividly as you had, and he obviously had moved on from it. 

“Have you been holding onto that this whole time?”

“Please, Steve, just answer the question.” Being this exposed, both literally and figuratively, was getting cold and exhausting. You wanted to let it go so desperately, wanted it all to finally be over. You wanted the closure that Steve could give you.

The current from the waterfall gently pushed you around the pool, two bodies orbiting each other, locked in this position unless one of you put your foot down to take back control. He wasn’t saying anything, the by-product of his chivalrous early-20th century upbringing, “It’s okay if you never wanted things to go…”

“I was going to kiss you.”

The usual noise in your brain dissipated into nothingness, the weight of his words sitting at the forefront of everything. A missed opportunity, one that neither of you had tried to reclaim in the years since that night. He was going to kiss you, he was going to put down the flag he had chosen to bare and choose to have his own life with you, if just for a night. Huh. Maybe not knowing was better.

“I want to kiss you,” and his words snapped you back out of your head to find Steve standing firm and tall in front of you, the current unable to move him anymore. A hand gently rested on the curve of your hip, the calluses of his hard life feeling rough against your soft skin. Your breath hitches in your chest but you can’t help tilting your head up to face him, the blue of his eyes reflecting the dark waters that surround you. The water clings to your arms as you snake them around his neck, the droplets carving their own paths back to their ocean. Steve pulls you to him, his hard abs forcing your soft curves to conform to him as he places his free hand on your cheek. His gentle breath tickles your lips and you can’t help but let your eyes flutter shut, giving yourself over to him completely. 

Three years of working, two years of waiting, one final breath and his lips were on your own. You can’t help but sigh into the kiss, the softness of his lips even better than you had imagined. The hand that was on your cheek moves to the back of your head, getting tangled in your hair, trapping you against him, a position you were more than happy to stay in. A soft moan escapes your throat as he deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip, asking for entry. This was more than you ever could have asked for. It felt as though there was lightning coursing through him and he passed it onto you, shooting down your spine. Fuck, it was so worth the wait. His fingertips dug into your hip, the slight pain making you gasp suddenly, breaking the kiss. Steve seized that opportunity, his lips going for the sensitive skin at your neck, just below your ear. 

“What do you think would have happened after?” he growls, letting his teeth scrape gently along the shell of your ear. 

The sound of his voice, so low and clear, so close that it practically moved through you made the longing in your core come alive with a new ferocity, something even your practiced imagination never could have matched. Your fingertips danced along his shoulder, making memories of the outline of every muscle as they worked their way down, desperately needing to dip into the valleys of his chest, “If that kiss would have been like this, then we definitely would have missed the rest of the party…”

You can feel him smirk against your temple as his grip on you gets firmer, a hand moving to your left leg, pulling it up to hitch over his hip before resting comfortably on your ass. You can’t help but swallow hard at the contact, his hardness making itself very apparent, trapped between the two of you. The physical manifestation of his attraction to you sets off a reaction within you and your core floods with a slick wetness, separate from the water. “Take a breath,” he orders and you do so without question. Steve had a way of making people follow his instructions and right now, your body was begging to be commanded.

The full force of the waterfall would have ripped the two of you apart if he hadn’t had such a tight hold of you. Steve walked you confidently through the water and the two of you make it the other side, the both of you pushing each other’s hair off of your faces. Suddenly, your back slammed against the cool rock of the cliffside, his hungry lips devouring your own, his hips pinning you right where he wanted you. Your other leg hitches up, his pelvis keeping you spread wide, an achy stretch that feels so good. The water wasn’t nearly as deep on this side of the waterfall, the water barely lapping at your ankles, giving Steve a whole view of everything that had been obscured before. You had the same pleasure, your eyes able to rake over where your fingers lead, outlining the perfect shapes as they trailed down. They cut paths on his skin, the tips wiping away any moisture before your nails left soft pink trails, the slight pain making him take a sharp breath through his teeth. Within seconds, your fingers found their goal, following the thick vein on the underside all the way to the tip before you wrap around him fully. A soft moan dies in your throat, your core screaming in anticipation, your legs trembling knowing how good all of him will feel.

Suddenly, your head snaps back and your chest heaves, the moan that died in your throat being revived by his rough fingers rolling along your sensitive bud, shooting pure pleasure straight into your brain. He smirked into your neck with that, his scruff tickling your delicate pulse points as his lips go for your throat. It was a battle of who would fall first, and you were losing terribly. 

“You’re not going to break me,” you purr, his lips moving back to your own. That was all the permission Steve needed and he withdrew his slick fingers from your folds, your body protesting the sudden emptiness. They wrapped around your wrist of the hand that’s holding him and together the two of you tease the tip. You let go of him, but his hand stays tightly on your wrist, pulling your arm from between you and forcing it to rest against the rock, over your head, and you couldn’t help but gasp a little. Steve Rogers had taken control. 

In your fantasies, you always had to show him the ropes a little; after all, the man was nearly 100 years old at this point. But here, now, in this reality, he entered you painstakingly slow, showing an enormous amount of restraint, making damn well sure that you felt every inch of him taking you. And my god, you needed him. Your body ached and stretched deeply, accommodating all of him and he stood for a moment, the two of you breathing each other in, foreheads together. You could feel his heart beating strong in his chest and he pulled his head back just a little, to be able to look in your eyes. You meet his own, his blue never looking quite so crystal clear and the intimacy of the moment making you want to cry out. You had never seen someone like him, someone who could exceed and shatter all your presumptions at the same time, who could make the hero you had made in your mind look like a caricature and put everything you had imagined to shame. 

Steve captures your lips again, his free hand going back to your hip to support you as he begins his long, slow thrusts. Each one pulls a deeper moan from you, your hips moving in time with his own, the years of frustrated, lonely nights being erased out of existence. His hot breath moved to your neck and the pace quickened, both your bodies begging for everything that you each could give. With each slam of your hips you pull your legs tighter around him, allowing him to go as deeply as he wanted, and when you flexed your walls around him, the gruff moan that came from him was almost primal. Your ass hit the hard rock again with enough force that you were sure you were going to have a bruise and his teeth scraped your jawline again, less gently than before, payback for making him lose his composure. The slight pain only serves to make the coil at your core twist tighter and your cunt quivers, so close to release. 

He releases your arm from above your head, the pressure of his grip on your wrist leaving red imprints on your skin and you can’t help but let your nails scrape down, marking his perfect bicep as your own. It didn’t matter that the pink marks and bruises would eventually fade, but for awhile, whenever he looked in the mirror or over at his shoulder, he would have to think of you. His fingers moved to your quivering core, drawing shapes in time with his thrusts and he used the tip of his nose to nudge your chin up, baring his teeth at your throat, “Don’t you fucking dare hold back.”

His command was enough to push you over and your body rocked against him, the sound of you screaming his name only muffled by his lips on your own as he went over with you. His hips bucked and clashed with yours as you felt the chemicals rush through you, his warmth spill deep within you, making your whole body feel like it was glowing. Your heart thumped hard in your chest and as the fuzziness faded, the soreness made its way in. It was a good sore though, one that you knew would last for days, one that made you want to stay in bed.

Steve’s head fell to your shoulder and you couldn’t help but gently stroke the soft hair at the back of his head, his chest heaving. Two years. Two years since he had left DC and moved into the tower permanently, and even longer since the first time the two of you had met. When you first met him, you were upset that he had refused your professional services, thinking you would never be able to get close to him. But now, now nothing else mattered in the world except Steve.

“Remind me to beat Thor with his own hammer next time I see him,” Steve whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

“Why?” You ask, confused as to why Steve would be thinking of Thor in this moment.

“Because it was his fault we didn’t kiss that night, and we could have been fucking like this for over a year.”

Your head falls to his chest as he finally lets you down, your laugh echoing against the rocks that surround you, “Only if I get first swing.”

  
  



End file.
